


piece by piece

by MementoMoriPontifexMortis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Nyotalia, Swearing, There are other characters, aph estonia needs a freaking hug okay, but lbr those are the only two that really matter for this fic, there is some historical inaccuracy i'm sure of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 17:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15248328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MementoMoriPontifexMortis/pseuds/MementoMoriPontifexMortis
Summary: piece by piece they fall together.  or five moments in aph estonia's life that she has seen taani while her life is changing and the one time that taani changes the game.





	piece by piece

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote the first half of this while having only slept for five hours and then being up for an entire day so it’s a little weirder than normal but I really like it so i decided to keep it. also i love this and it’s full angst af bc lbr here, the relationship between these two would be so filled with angst but in the end it’s really cute and i think you guys will like this. any historical part that sounds 100% wrong is probably 100% wrong and was written like so because i needed to do that, I accept 100% blame. anyway, this is beta’d by my beloved sister and any remaining mistakes are my own

I.  
  
The first time she met _Taani_ , she had been on a trade job with her people; Kalev calling for her from the shore, telling her that it was safe. For a second, she hadn’t believed it, how could they who had been enemies at times, be also friends? But she had never doubted Kalev, for she was sure he was sent to protect her and her realm just as sure as he was that she was the gift given to him and his people to lead them into wars. So she crept from the ship, her language on her tongue as he worked the other language from his and talked to those who belonged there.

It was then she had felt it.

A ghosting touch as if the person from the _before_ period had come back for her, but instead, she saw no woman standing there in elegance, waiting her acknowledgment, only a girl-child with bright eyes the same color as the sky. As if this girl-child had been only waiting for their eyes to meet, she took off as soon as she could, and Maast, drawn to her, pushed through the crowd. A market was a dangerous place for any, in her time though, she had learnt the younger one was, the more danger it came to. Slavers stole children right out of the market, their cries nothing more but voices in the wind.

And so with winding footfalls, dodging those who’s eyes followed her, Maast drifted farther and farther from Kalev and her people until it was just her and the girl-child near the sea. The salt touched air encircled them as the girl-child turned to her, bright smile reaching the sky in her eyes as she opened her mouth.

If there was a word for what she felt when the foreign tongue slipped from the mouth of the girl-child and her understanding failed for the only language that Maast knew was her own and the rough sounding one from those south of her, she knew not it, but it was there and heavy as if the rain. Turning from the girl who felt like her, from the one who might know where she came from and where the woman from before went, Maast turned to run back to her ship, back to where the fallen stone in her stomach could rest before she and her people had to leave, but was stopped.

Kalev had said she had come out from sleep with swords in her hands and blood upon her dressing; the village men had agreed. She knew it was correct, her hands remembered gripping, her mind remembered dirty and sticky and **red,** her chest pound and head ached and she did not know how she knew how to fight, but she knew in that second that she was born to _fight_.

Twisted feet, heart pounding, harsh words falling from her lips, “what do you want?” as she twisted the girl-child with the bright eyes hand away from her. She would not be a victim, she would not let this person hurt her as others had tried.

The girl-child laughed, a twinkle noise that if she were lesser would cause her to gasp and weaken, but no. More of that language that Maast could not understand before the hand was wrenched from her grip and the girl-child disappeared into the air. Anger and bile rose in her chest, left alone with the stone and her fears and the beating of an overanxious heart that would not be calmed. She knew not where she was, the sea – lonely as she ever was – would be no help and Maast gripped her hands. Was this a trick, she thought as she waited for someone to come from the shadows, to separate her from those she called hers? If she tried to move, she wondered, what would happen?

A wave hit the shore, another a second later, over and over again she let the sea speak before she figured no one would come for her; not her own people and not those who belonged to this market. One step, two, three, four. Quickening her pace, she ran past those who were not there when she first entered the market and those who had kept their eyes on the blonde girl-children running through a market with no one but the wind to carry them. She kept her legs moving despite the twinge of pain each footfall brought, kept running despite the burn in her chest, kept running until she had heard the only language she knew but the rough one from the south.

“ _Kalev!”_ Her voice carried, strong and angry, over the voices of those who spoke a language she could not – and would never because of the girl-child with the sky in her eyes – speak. “Läheme.”

* * *

II.

  
The second time she meets _Taani_ , she can give the other girl a name while she herself still goes by the name given to her by Kalev those years ago. Johannes, from south of her, has given her a choice to change it – they have fought bloody and dirty and **red** against each other for years now; he refuses her right to keep her people how they have and always will be and she refuses the name of the woman who left her in a forest by the sea that he tries to give her – but she is nothing if not a fighter.

None of that matters though.

Refusing religion, the one that keeps trying to creep upon her lands as if a shadow coming to take the things that her and her people hold dear, has landed her in a room with no exit. She has tried over and over again, cutting the disease from her skin as she and her people fight and struggle against the hold that the church tries to place around their necks, but she has failed.

The fight goes wrong at the last minute, she tried to run as per the request of those of her people who still breathed, for if she had fallen to their enemies, then what would become of them, but running did not matter. A dog rested at the heels of those who tried to control her, one who could find her no matter how hard she had hid, no matter what tricks she had tried – even killing the dog had done nothing – and soon, too soon, she finds herself dragged from the forests that belonged to her land to stand in front of who would try to become her master.

She would not be a slave.

Her people would not bow to anyone.

“Do you understand me?” Sky eyes smiled, bright like she had back then, the rough language on her lips “I learned the language that your men said you spoke, but you never came back.”

“I will not bow to you,” Maast hissed, her voice cold, hands itching for her weapons. She no longer cared for the Sky to speak to her as she did back then, “My people will not serve yours.”

“Nah kid, it’s not like that,” The way the Sky spoke, cheerful, friendly, as if she wanted nothing more for them to be like she had been with her people, but Maast could hear the steel underneath – the part of the Sky that spoke of the anger it would feel if she continued to fight. “You don’t understand but you will, so don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know.”

She did not believe the other, no matter what she felt like – others had come to her land feeling similar, like they could tell her where the woman went, where the dreams of a different place and language came from – for Maast knew what the Sky was here for and she would fight the other with anything that could come her way.

“Anyway kid, I’m Else, I heard from Johannes that you’re name is Linda?”

* * *

III.  


The third time she meets up with _Taani,_ too long has passed between the Sky and Maast. For she has been branded Linda, after a woman she can barely remember, who represented the barest of fraction of her people and she has carried that name through her forced Christianizationand the Sky has gone through three different names, settling on Kirstine after the god that killed the girl she swore to love and cherish forever.

Bitterness runs through her veins. Maast was killed and in her placed sat Linda, a girl who was not allowed to set foot on her own land, to not speak her own language, to not see her own people; Latin and German and Prussian and Polish and Lithuanian and several other languages she knew by heart, painfully by heart, but yet her own language faded from her mind. Her culture was thought of as lesser, her people were told to be ashamed of what they were and for several days, she wondered what would happen when they who held her chains got what they wished?

She blamed not those like her – representations, Poland had told her when she was handed to him and Lithuania, they were representations of those who were theirs and had rules they had to follow, unspoken but there – but she blamed those in charge. How could she not? It was they who wanted her culture to give way to theirs, it was her death they were hoping for.

But she was nothing but a fighter, even if she had to be a more silent one now. She would not give them what they wanted, she would give no one what they wanted.

But the Sky – Else, Dagmar, Ida, what names she has not taken for herself she has tried to give to those around her – she calls to Linda. Even now when she’s not supposed to be.

Her steps echoed off the stone. Somewhere in the castle, Birgitta and Liisa sit in a darken room, fumbling with their dresses as they steal kisses, holding Linda to the promise that she’d avoid the Danish woman who came to visit, who came to place claim back on Linda’s land. But she can’t hold the promise and so with her careful steps, she moves. A step or two here, an entire floor there.

“Linda,” the voice called and with a swish, she was greeted by the sky again.

Oh no, she thought as she felt her heart break “Taani,” she greeted as if there was nothing wrong.

“I told you I’d come back,” Fervent, loving, and hopeful. It was as if Taani was hoping that Linda would fall into her arms, her previous actions when she had first been taken from the Danish woman certainly would’ve provided Kirstine the hope that she would do that, but she can’t; not as Maast, not as Linda; not as the name Sweden’s nobles give her, or the name that Liisa calls her; not as the name Lithuania gave her, or the Polish one. She cannot give her love to Denmark anymore.

“I’m fine where I am.”

And her people is. For a time where her people is still under the control of another nation, not yet their own, it is a time of relative peace. Her people are more than comfortable to live under the Swedish rule placed upon them and Linda – perhaps she should let Sweden change her name, she holds nothing to the name Johannes gave her and she is far more than willing to let her name be something given to her by someone who can pretend to care for her in such a great way – is more than willing to stay under the rule of the Swedish nation.

“No,” Taani said firmly, not willing to take no as an answer. Shake of the head, blonde pieces going everywhere.

Linda can remember carding her hands through the straw colored hair, braiding intricate designs into it. Else had taught her so much and had loved her so brightly and so openly and so _**right** _.

A scream bubbled in her chest. Taani kept talking, her heart kept breaking. Had she changed so much? Linda knew that if she still fought to call herself Maast, still fought the names and the rule given to her by others like her, she would’ve ran with Taani the second the other nation had touched the Swedish lands to sign the treaty. A sob broke. Who had she become in her effort to go back home?

Heels clack as she runs, Sweden and Finland give her worried looks as she bypasses them – they will become looks of disappointment soon – and Maast wonders if she will always run from the Sky.

* * *

IV.  


The fourth time she meets up with Taani, is a bit more joyus than the others. Ema – she is the mother of her people and she will not let anyone ever take them or her country from her again – has earned her freedom from Russia after a considerable short war for independence. In an effort to showcase the change in her, Ema has cut off her hair, spent her days introducing herself to nations that she had barely met before and ignoring the overwhelming disappointment that Else – the other woman went back to that name at the start of the 19 th  century – had yet to visit her. Sweden, Finland, Iceland, even Norway, has spent days at her place, congratulating her and celebrating.

Not the one nation she wanted though.

Hands focused on cleaning up the mess left by Poland and Lithuania. Latvia passed out in the upstairs room because Aija refuses to live in her own country alone.

“ _What if Miss Russia comes for us again? What if she stops caring that we’ve won our freedom and she-”_

The worries of her sweet young sister-nation echo in her own mind at night, but Ema refused to think on it too hard. Anya wouldn’t come for them. She understood what being a nation was about; hadn’t she showed them that she knew that enough times?

Again, Ema would never blame the actions of her fellow nations completely on them, she knew far too well that they were all controlled by their governments – not that Ema had much interaction with hers at the moment; the Riigikogu had very little time to spare to boss her around and much of their interactions were her sitting in the room where they met, taking notes – but her feelings towards Miss Russia were far cooler than the ones she felt towards her former owners.

Kitchen cleaned, Ema turned to clean the living space when she stopped. The small house that Ema had set up as hers on abandoned farmland close to the center of her heart had once been a barn and it was only through unending nights and the help of some of her people that she had been able to turn it into a home. But it was small and it got cold in the winter and if it rained for too long, the roof would leak.

And it was hers.

And in that moment, what was hers was being investigated by what had once been hers.

“Else?” She asked, confusion and wonder in her voice. She truly hadn’t expected the Danish nations to come by. “What are-?”

“You need help fixing this place up, don’t ya?”

Hands twitched. Did she come here to insult Ema’s home? No, Else had never been cruel. Then again, she had been cruel multiple times; breaking Ema’s heart over and over again, promising things that no nation had the right to promise in the night as they laid under the stars, listening to Ema speak about her myths and her people.

“I should probably do that, I’m the most handy out of us all and I got a vacation from my bosses – I’ve worked really hard so I’ve earned it – and while I’m sure you can do it by yourself, cause come on, it’s you, I’m sure you’d like to be able to rest and-”

“Shut up,” Ema said, cutting off the rambling. Through it all she had gotten the message, the words that Else was struggling to say. A step forward, another one as she dried her hands on the apron tied around her waist. Else looked scared, something Ema couldn’t remember, or imagine, the Sky ever being.

“I can-”

“No,” Ema says over her, voice firm as Else’s had been that day, “I’ll need help patching the roof. Aija’s staying around to help with my dreams of turning this back into a farm, but the roof’s in rough shape.”

“I can help with that.”

Else reaches for her, Ema’s pulled back into the first and last time she had ever gotten held by the blonde with the Sky in her eyes and the Steel in her voice and the Hope in her heart, and then she lets herself relax. This is what she had fought for, the reemergence of her culture and people and the shame to be lifted off everything. Unlike the last time, and the first time, and the times inbetween those times, she has something that cannot be taken from her; her freedom.

The year is 1923 and she is just beginning and her and Else’s relationship can start over and maybe, just maybe, she can have what she had hoped for.

* * *

V.

  
The fifth time she meets up with Taani, her skin itches from healing scars, her heart has been torn from her chest and Ema is nothing more than the shadow of the girl from her past. If she died tomorrow, no one would have any good to say about the girl who flinched from loud noises, who hid from the other nations in her own country. Her time under the Soviet rule has done what many had tried and failed to do, if only because Miss Russia had less a control over the nations her bosses had demanded in a treaty that was a death sentence to far too many of her people, and it stole her language from her.

Her people speak it, whisper it, hold it close to their chest because it is their language and they will not allow it to be stolen, but Ema failed to hold onto it, the shock of being handed to Miss Russia and no one fought for the countries who they had grown close to.

Of course governments played into it, but at the same time, Ema couldn’t forget the fact that her and her sister-nations had been just taken, given to another because of a secret agreement.

Heart pounded in her chest as Ema forced back the bile. Food was hard too keep down anymore and it was worse now that her boss had forced her to go to the summit that every nation, regardless of what other organizations you were apart of, was invited to. For the past, fuck, six years since her freedom, six years since she had seen another another nation that wasn’t Latvia or Lithuania, Ema had ignored it.

She wanted nothing to do with speaking a language that wasn’t hers – she had worked far too hard for the first year re-familiarizing herself with her language at the expense of pushing down the English she had fought to learn during the 20’s – and she feared seeing other nations and their pitying glances.

But a nation cannot ignore the demands of their bosses and while most of those who were in a position to boss her around often didn’t, the acknowledgment that she had spent too long being told what to do so instead they would take a moment to ask her to do things, this was something they were demanding.

 _You need to show them that we are willing to interact with them on more than a business level,_ one had said. Another had said, _by you not showing your face, it looks like you’re snubbing them._

Her president looked at her and said, “I will not force you, they might, but I do ask that you give this meeting a chance, show them that we cannot be held down by our past.”

Ema knew that he was right, knew that they all were right. A plane, travel, packing, sickness, she dealt with it all as she made her way to the location of the summit and through it all, she kept her head empty.

But it was impossible to do that now. To ignore the sight of people who were surprised to see her there, who openly said as so, to have to make excuse after excuse as to why she had stayed away for so long. She wasn’t like Lithuania, who’s prominent scars across her back gave way to a reason to not show up – not that Viktorija had ever used said excuse – or like Latvia who was young and easily scared. Everyone thought she came away from her captivity free from problems, after all, she was the lucky one.

But she wasn’t.

To be lucky denoted some kind of blessing or charm on oneself that protected them, but though her scars were smaller than Lithuania’s and her trauma more well hide than Latvia, it did not mean that she didn’t have any.

Like right now, the scars across her shoulders itched but she couldn’t keep itching them without fearing that they’d open.

She’s alone in the bathroom, pushing down the urge to vomit again, pushing down the urge to sob and the desire to run from the summit. Or at least, she thought she was alone because the toilet flushes next to hers and Ema holds her breath, hoping that it’s a human aide or something, but it’s not because the next sound, after the rush of water and hands being washed, is Else’s voice, calling to her.

“Em,” The voice says outside her stall, a knock soft and gentle, “Come on out, you sound like shit.”

“That’s because I’m worthless so,” Ema muttered, her voice rough. Shaking her head, she continued, “Never mind, I’m not worthless, if I was everyone wouldn’t have fought over my lands.”

“Ema,” Else said, her tone borderline scolding.

Sitting on her knees in front of a toilet was not where Ema saw herself when she first showed herself to Else again. She wanted to look amazing, like a brand new person, like she had when her and Else had dated during the 20s. Instead, her hair looked ragged because Ema never had the time or energy to get it cut, her skin was greasy from lack of taking care of herself and her clothing was dirty from spending most of her time so far that day in front of the toilet.

“I’m not leaving the stall until you leave,” Ema explained, “I look like crap and I don’t want you to see me like that.”

Bad enough Else had to hear and see her beg and cry as Ema was taken from her home while the Danish woman fought with Miss Russia. Even if Else was promising things that she never had the right to - _“I promise, she’ll never step foot on her lands as long as your people own it!”_ \- Ema held onto the fact that her ex-something had tried to save her from having to go back with the Russian nation.

“I don’t care what you look like!” Else argued and still Ema shook her head. The Danish nation was too stubborn.

“I smell bad.”

“So do I.”

A small laugh, sharp and nearly on the verge of a sob. “I’m gross.”

“You thought I looked amazing covered in visceral that time I helped my queen give birth in 1249,” Else said, knocking on the stall door once more, her voice calm and sweet and none of the Steel that used to live there. “You thought I looked amazing that time I slipped in cow shit.”

“I said you looked amazing _falling_ in the cow shit.”

A moment passed as they both laughed at the fading memory. Their time together seemed so short but they both knew that for nations, their first years together were longer than some got.

“Come on, Maast, let’s go up to my room, I’ll get you cleaned up and you can rest,” For a moment, it was like the Sky had come back, all flirting words and sweet tones and promises that no one can keep. “I’ll tell everyone that you got piss drunk yesterday and couldn’t make it.”

Her hand hesitated at the lock, she wanted so bad to not only go lay down but to let Else in. For so long, Else had been her Sky, had been that which she had leant her entire self upon, to have gained it and lost it so quickly as she had multiple times, to have pushed it away and hidden herself from it’s touch as she had done so many times, become tiring. When could she rest under the Sky with the sun touching her and the sea surrounding them and the hope and dreams of a future next to them?

The noise of the stall unlocking was loud, but Ema could not be afraid of it. She was a fighter, a born one, even if she had to change how it was she fought.

“You do look like crap,” Else said after a moment, “and smell a little weird, but that’s okay, I think you look gross and cute.”

* * *

\+ I  


“I want to marry you,” Else said, her voice a soft murmur against Ema’s skin as the Baltic nation curled into her arms, the Disney movie playing softly. The room seemed to freeze as the words left her mouth. The only sound was Margaretha whispering, “Oh my fucking god no” to herself.

Ema paused in her movement and for a second Else wondered if she said it too soon. It had been years since they had fallen back together. Tentative steps taken towards – and sometimes, from – each other. Love came hard sometimes when both people barely knew how to interact with each other, despite what they had been.

“What?” Ema asked after a second, leaning to look up. This close, Else could notice the flecks of blue in the green eyes that she had fallen in love with.

“I want to marry you,” She repeated, “As Else and Ema.”

Ema blinked. “Oh.”

That was new.

Oh.

Just ‘oh’?

Well, least it wasn’t a no.

“Yeah.”

Ema leaned back down, letting her head drop on Else’s shoulder, her attention back to the Disney movie playing. The room was still frozen.

“And?” Liisa said, breaking the silence and the frozen air. Ema rolled her eyes before tilting to look at her cousin.

“And what?”

A sigh, Else thought was far more long-suffering then it needed to be, before Liisa spoke, “That question has only two answers; yes or no.”

“It wasn’t really a question was it?” Ema pointed out before looking back to Else, giving her a small smile, “I’ll wait until you get the words together to ask properly.”

“Oh.”

Ema’s smile brightened before she nodded and turned back to the Disney movie and for a quick second, Else wanted nothing more than to pull Ema on to her lap and make out with her girlfriend, but Iceland hates watching people make out, especially people who helped raise her and take care of her and come on, why? And Else knows that little Latvia would rather no one made out with anyone while she sat in the room unless you like hearing the sound of a teenage girl-nation complaining loudly about it.

So it’s not time to make out.

That’s okay, they’ll have time for that later when everyone’s separated to go to their own rooms and Birgitta can get her girlfriend to stop swearing in her language.

“I’ve got so much to say to you tonight,” Else says just as the princess and the prince kiss and Ema laughed lightly and the world felt okay for just a second.

They could shed the past as easily as they could wear it with pride.

Later that night, while they’re rolling around on the bed, Else whisper her question, asks not just Ema to marry her, but asks Ema and her baggage and Maast and Linda to marry her and Ema gather tears to her eyes, nods her head. Marriage is a construct, she whispers back, but I’ll love it with you.

 

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES:  
> Maast - closest thing I could find on the IBS that stands for ‘from the land’ that could sound like a name. If it wrong, please tell me.  
> Else/Dagmar/Ida/etc - it has forever been my headcanon that nations, some of them at least, will go through human names as i go through candy; far too much, far too quickly. I’ve always headcanoned that aph denmark is one of them. I also headcanon that aph estonia has gone through quite a few too before just settling on.  
> Johannes - Livonia, brother that connects the Baltics together slightly in a way but not really he just tells himself that. This is my horrible little child I love. Funny enough in my state there is a city called Livonia.  
> All of 5 - I love Hima-papa but like where did he get the idea that Estonia has been a lucky country????? Talk about a history that would make someone cry. Honestly every book/pdf I find on that history just makes me wonder. But in the end, Estonians are a people that can square their shoulders and push through some bad shit. Still though, not a lucky nation and so there will never be any of that in my stories that talk about the history.  
> Kalev - is a mortal oc I created and have continued to work on for the last 8 years. I, again, have headcanons relating to the finding of nations, but in this case, Ema was left where she was by ancient finno-ugric (until i have a better name for my trash child, i will call her by what she represented) who had found and placed each of the finno-ugric children somewhere where they’d be found easily, but sweetheart done messed up and the first people who found Ema was a group of humans who lived nearby and who took care of her.  
> Four - please don’t hate me for that, my own sister kicked me slightly for doing that so i understand.  
> ‘Marriage is a construct’ - according to statistics and some of the estonian youtubers i follow, marriage isn’t that important in estonia. like people will live with their partner and be a couple and just not get married right away and that’s normal, which i don’t see the problem with. my mom and dad lived with each other for about four years before getting married bc one of their friends asked them if they were ever getting married so like, marriage is a construct and you don’t need to be married to love each other and have a happy relationship.


End file.
